repair
by VickyVicarious
Summary: Klavier doesn't hate Phoenix Wright, not after learning the truth about his brother. What he feels instead is much more complicated. [Klavier/Phoenix; part of my Quartered series]
1. cat (68)

I was given a list of prompts with the challenge to write 100 drabbles, each no more than 600 words long. I chose to do things a little differently: instead of one pairing, I'm writing for four of my favorite ones, and attempting to make all the drabbles interconnected and chronological. I'm also picking them at random - shuffled up all the prompt words in a box to make sure. (This is why each chapter has a random number in parentheses as well.)

The summary/title may change as the fic evolves, depending on where the prompts guide me. I have a general idea but can't get too specific for obvious reasons. Also, updates will probably be slow, as I'm cycling my drabbles through each pairing as well as not doing this every day. I'm posting each as a separate story for ease of reading, but they're all in a series if you feel inclined to check the others.

This fic in particular was meant as a personal challenge: I love both these characters, and like their pairing a lot in theory, but have never attempted to write for them as I really wasn't sure how to make them work. I also wanted to write from Klavier's POV, which I haven't yet, and provide a different perspective of Phoenix than I typically do. Hopefully this all comes together well!

* * *

Vongole adores Klavier.

It's terrible. He's never been an animal person; Klavier feels guilty every day, when he's greeted at his door with an exuberant dog, and all he wants to do is play guitar in peace. He'll let her out to play in the backyard, and sometimes even forget she's out there until she starts barking to be let back in. She's never mad at him, though. Not even when he shuts her out of his bedroom at night only to find her curled out directly outside in the hallway the next morning, or stays out late and arrives home hours after she usually would have gone out.

He'd installed a doggie door after the third time, but it doesn't ease the guilt.

Klavier knows he's not being fair to her: Vongole is a sweet dog, an innocent creature who has lost her best friend and only has him as a poor replacement. Kristoph was a fantastic pet owner – he'd play with her for hours, took her on long walks every day, fed and groomed her on a clear schedule, and judging by her habit of lurking, let her sleep on the end of his bed. She's fully trained, so it's not like Klavier even has much to do – but every time he sees her, all he can think about is his brother. Kristoph's kindness, his sincere joy at this animal, and – it would be so much easier, if Klavier could pretend his brother was simply evil.

Some days, he'll take her on a walk. It's more a private self-punishment than the reward the dog clearly sees it as. Klavier finds it difficult to even paste on a smile those days, and usually that's the easiest mask in his repertoire. Playing fetch is entirely impossible.

Running into Phoenix Wright makes the punishment feel a lot less private.

Vongole barks when she sees him, wags her tail wildly and tugs gently on the leash until Klavier relents and allows her to lead him forward.

"Oh, sweetheart," Wright says, in a kind and open voice Klavier cannot remember ever hearing from him. "I've missed you too. Okay, sit! Shake! Oh, good girl. Hi, Kris."

Glancing up at Klavier abruptly, the lawyer's eyes widen – both flinch. They stare at each other for a long moment.

"…You know, I once defended a client with a cat," Wright says eventually, not bothering with a greeting. "He was guilty. I don't know where Shoe went."

"I couldn't leave her."

"You don't have to keep her. It's… brave of you."

Klavier's throat feels dry. He looks down; Vongole grins up at him.

"Hey," Phoenix says. "I think he'd be really happy. He adored her."

When Klavier looks up again, the lawyer's gaze is far-off, someplace sad and sweet.

"He does. He asks after her often, still," Klavier says, around a lump in his throat.

If Phoenix is surprised to learn that Klavier is still in contact with his brother, he doesn't let it show.

"If you ever want a dogsitter," he offers instead, voice quiet, too understanding. He doesn't linger after, just shoots Klavier a pained smile and gives Vongole a kiss before turning to go.

Klavier thinks about taking him up on it. He thinks about that for a long time, walking Vongole around the park. Thinks about Phoenix shaking her paw, calling him Kris.

It would be so much easier if he could pretend Kristoph was solely evil. But knowing Phoenix Wright, of all people, remembers otherwise… that helps.

He makes sure to throw a stick for her a few times before heading home.

* * *

 **wordcount:** 599


	2. teacher (34)

His favorite courtroom rival makes a comment one day in trial, a brag about his tactics: "If I've learned anything from Mr. Wright–"

It shouldn't, but it stops Klavier in his tracks, almost more so than the objection that follows. He regains focus quickly, but after the trial is over his thoughts circle back – he's never considered Wright to be a teacher, and the image is unsettling somehow.

Perhaps it's because his understanding of the man hasn't ever been tinged by any sort of hero worship. Klavier knows that he enjoyed some fame in the past, but he'd never been interested in the careers of any defense attorneys outside of his brother, and when he'd faced Wright in court he'd only been eager for a challenge. And after that trial was over – even knowing he wasn't guilty can't quite change Klavier's impression of Phoenix from someone who really is not a good role model. He's stubborn, yes, and clever enough to turn his own trial into an opportunity to take down his rival. He was kind enough to take Trucy in, and has always seemed to genuinely love her, and certainly his taste in employees is good.

But despite all of these good qualities, the idea of Phoenix Wright providing direction and career guidance just feels _off_ , somehow. The people Klavier has admired have been self-assured, confident and experts in their fields: Miss von Karma, Professor Courte, and his brother all influenced him strongly. Von Karma's determination and attention to detail, Courte's strong ethics, and Kristoph's cool head – those all still seem like valuable qualities to emulate, things to look for in a mentor. Wright, based on what Klavier has seen, displays only distorted versions of any of these traits.

Even if he'd once had the ability to be a good mentor, seven years disbarred put paid to that. Wright is _damaged_ now, in ways that run deep, and Klavier can't feel entirely comfortable around him for reasons that are greater than just guilt. Despite himself, he's still not sure if this is a man to be trusted. His motives are good, that much is clear now, but he and Kristoph were friends for so long – it's hypocritical to suspect him of anything based on that association, Klavier knows but it doesn't _stop_ him.

Still, if his great flaw is being blinded by affection, as seems so likely now after Kristoph, after Daryan… he's always been good at accepting uncomfortable truths once they're shown to him.

Apollo's comment makes Klavier so uneasy that he forces himself to examine _why_ , and then to consider that maybe he's mistaken. He knows he isn't objective here – Wright, to him, is wrapped up in guilt and misplaced resentment, and so much else – but Apollo is, at least more so. Klavier respects Justice, trusts his opinion, and if he's come around to working for Wright, to the point that he's claiming to learn valuable lessons from the man, then there's a good chance Klavier is missing something.

When he thinks of Wright on the stand, all empty smirk and laconic bitterness, when he thinks of Wright in the park, gentle and sympathetic and grieving too… Klavier feels close to the man, similar in a way he doesn't want to be. He wants to be like the teachers he used to look up to, he doesn't want to become anything like the wreck of a man who once was great. But maybe there's more to him.

For Apollo's sake, for Trucy's, for all the good people who believe so much in Phoenix, Klavier hopes so.

* * *

 **wordcount:** 600


	3. old (27)

Klavier has been feeling tired lately.

He's self-aware enough to recognize that it's grief finally catching up to him. He'd been going strong ever since that first trial against Apollo, but the loss of the Gavinners feels worse, somehow. His music was so much a part of his daily life that there's no way to forget it, not like he can sometimes do with his brother. They'd seen each other weekly at most, both busy – but without his fans to perform to, Klavier has nothing to drive him on. He can keep up appearances well enough at work, but it's wearing to do so.

He'd take a vacation, but the thought of even more free time is daunting. He wants something to fill those empty spaces where the melancholy creeps in, some way to combat this emotional exhaustion. Physical exhaustion will do, in a pinch, and so he starts going on runs with Vongole – still trying to be better for her, too.

They meet Phoenix four runs in. Klavier is taking a break on a bench, drinking from his water bottle, when he hears an eager huff by his side, and looks up to see the lawyer approaching with purposeful strides.

"Oh," he says, when he gets closer and Vongole stands up to greet him. "Hi… Gavin?"

"Call me Klavier, Wright."

"Well, likewise, then. I mean. Call me Phoenix, not Klavier–" Phoenix grins, but stops at Klavier's blank expression, reaching to ruffle Vongole's ears. "Right, I forgot. Stopped being funny when I got a kid."

He's blushing a little, and it's so odd to see (his experiences with this man have been so high-tension, always fraught with emotion), that instinct rears its ugly head: Klavier _flirts_ with the man.

"If that's the extent of your repertoire, _Phoenix-not-Klavier_ , I doubt you ever were." He catches himself only after the fact, when he's already grinning with eyebrows raised teasingly, and feels embarrassment heating his own cheeks – he's not sure why. Klavier flirts stupidly with everyone, it's nothing new and indicates no real interest.

"Oh, you play along!" Phoenix laughs, apparently oblivious. "How've you been, Klavier?"

He sounds… genuine. It's startling, but perhaps their last interaction in this park softened more than just Klavier's opinion. Perhaps he's not the only one resolved to give the benefit of the doubt.

"I'm fine," he says with a polite smile, knowing it's half a lie. And maybe he's a little less convincing than usual, or maybe Phoenix is just more alert, but Klavier thinks he can tell, too.

"Yeah, you'll be fine," he agrees, barely any emphasis on the future tense. It's enough, though. Klavier can't help his little scoff. Regrets it immediately, just like the flirting, but once again he's too late to take it back, and this time Phoenix catches on.

"Man, look at me," he says after a moment, smile edging into something more familiar, a bit sarcastic. "Making dad jokes, butting in… I _told_ Trucy power walking is for old people, look what it's done to me."

There's something defensive about his body language, his shoulders shifting back and his foot tapping in place like he's ready to leave.

Somehow, that makes Klavier want him to stay.

He doesn't understand _why_ ; past aside, they barely know each other. But conversing with Phoenix is… engaging. Unpredictable, even down to Klavier's own reactions, and – he wants to see for himself. What is he missing? What does everyone else see in this man?

"Have a rest, _Opa_ ," he offers.

Phoenix hesitates. Sits closer than expected.

"You just called me old in German, didn't you?"

* * *

 **wordcount:** 600


	4. determination (35)

Klavier trades an autograph for his coffee when the starstruck barista fumbles twice on his name; he gives her a smile, too, then makes his escape. There's a cozy table in the back of the room with his name on it.

He's nearly reached his destination before he catches sight of a familiar hairstyle peeking over a pile of books. Before Klavier even knows what he's doing, he's veered off course, slipping into a seat at Phoenix Wright's table.

"K-Klavier!" Phoenix jolts at his abrupt arrival, nearly knocking his scone to the floor. Both of them grab for it, managing to save the dish with an awkward tangle of fingers. They freeze there, staring at each other.

" _Hallo_ ," He grins after a moment, clearing his throat slightly as he pulls away.

"What are you doing here?" Phoenix accuses, overlapping him. The tension Klavier had been attempting to lessen instead thickens about them, lending a molasses tinge of regret to this whole interaction. But his intended table, a glance up shows, has already been snapped up. He did not get a to-go mug; all that's left is to see this through.

"It almost sounds like you don't want me here," Klavier purrs sweetly. He's not going to admit to being unsettled to Phoenix. They've been resting their legs on the same bench for a few weeks now, and the fifteen minutes of casual conversation every few days has added up to more ease between them, yes – but not so much that Klavier likes showing uncertainty to this man.

He's not entirely sure why. Maybe because he is _always_ uncertain around Phoenix. It's at least bearable if no one else knows.

"I _don–_ " Phoenix visibly cuts himself off mid-hurtful reply, but the message gets across regardless.

Klavier swallows back a retort, along with the hurt he actually does feel, and the surprise at that hurt, and the annoyance at _that_ , and the urge to just get up and abandon his coffee and Phoenix entirely.

He came in here because he was _tired_.

"Sorry." At least Phoenix seems genuinely remorseful. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. I'm – god, sorry, please stay."

He's flushed, scrubs a hand over his face. He looks tired too – and embarrassed, and guilty.

"I just didn't want you to see…" Phoenix shrugs, gestures across the surface of the table.

Law books. Highlighters, page markers, a pad full of messy notes, ink on Phoenix's hands. A badge doodled on the top corner of the paper.

Klavier looks up sharply. Phoenix turns redder, but meets his eyes.

"I'm getting it back," he confirms, and – for the first time in a long time, his voice is _steel_. It softens quickly: "I haven't told anyone, yet."

Klavier swallows. He doesn't feel guilty for Phoenix losing his badge. He did the right thing, based on what he knew at the time. Still…

"If you haven't told anyone, then no one has helped you review, _ja?_ " Klavier reaches over to pull the top book from the stack and flip to a random page. He takes a sip of his coffee, and says, "Define the best evidence rule."

He has no idea what he's doing. The study help – that's easy, and Phoenix accepts it quickly enough, with no more comment than a warm smile. But the reason –

The man flubs a lot of his answers, clearly rusty, but there's such a _fire_ in Phoenix's eyes regardless. It's intimidating. It's captivating.

It's setting a strangle tingle to life in Klavier's belly, makes him feel _uncertain_ and – for the first time in a long time, wide wide awake.

* * *

wordcount: 600


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